Blue Hair, Pointed Ears, and a Wand
by Yarrharr
Summary: A young Irish Elf (aka Sidhe) goes to Hogwarts. Her adventures begin.... (ok, I’m not good at summaries)
1. Prologue

Blue Hair, Pointed Ears, and a Wand   
AUTHOR: Yarrharr  
RATING: PG, nothing more violent than what's in the books  
DISCLAIMERS: I don't own Harry Potter, Hogwarts, or anything besides Nadea and the characters I created. It all belongs to JK Rowling, the most talented and imaginative author on the planet. Thank you for sharing your world with us!  
SUMMARY: A young Irish Elf (aka Sidhe) goes to Hogwarts. Her adventures begin.... (ok, I'm not good at summaries)  
A/N: This is my first Harry Potter story. Chapter One is an introduction of sorts, providing background for the rest of the story. I came up with the idea for this story a year ago, but didn't start writing it down until recently.  
  
Chapter 1: Prologue  
It was a bright, clear morning, quite the opposite of the portent-laden, stormy night that is usually depicted in such a situation. There weren't even ominous murmurs in the air, just the songs of a few zealous birds. But Russ Calder came hurrying up the road just the same, his work robes flapping around his calves. Maire! Liam! he called as he opened the gate of the green picket fence beside the road. Behind it, surrounded by a small, neat garden, was a thatched-roof cottage. The door and windows were open now that summer and sunny weather had arrived. A young woman with striking blue hair and pointed ears appeared in the doorway. She smiled at him as he came up the path.  
Russ! How good to see you. I'd make you a cup of tea, but I'm doing some cleaning now and--  
The man interrupted breathlessly. There's no time for that. I came to warn you, Maire. You, Liam, and the baby have to get out of here. There's summat happening down in the village. Hekkon McDougal and some others are angry, they're sayin' they won't rest til they've gotten rid of every human in the Reserve.  
What? A mob of villagers? she said, laughing. You're talking daft, Russ.  
I'm dead serious! I've heard Hekkon talking in the pub. He blames humans for what the Dark Lord did, and he thinks they're working agains' us. They'll come up here after Liam, I've no doubt. You've got to get away! His voice was urgent and fearful. Not much could scare Russ Calder, a sun-tanned fisherman who went out in raging storms and fought the occasional kraken that tried capsize his boat. Once she perceived his concern, Maire became more serious.  
Where could we go? she asked.  
You can take my fishing boat. It's not fast, but it'll get you down the coast to Kilcarra.  
She was going to ask something else, but just then a child shrieked inside the house and a moment later, a tiny girl wearing a blue smock tumbled onto the doorstep. The girl, who was fourteen months old and precocious, beamed at Russ from the vicinity of his feet. Her hair was as turquoise as her mother's.  
Look what Nad-ee found! she said, referring to herself in the third person as some toddlers do. She uncurled a small, grubby fist, revealing a slimy frog. The girl gurgled happily at her discovery.  
Her mother glanced distractedly at her, her mind on other matters. That's nice, dear. Now go inside and fetch your da. Quickly.  
The girl toddled inside. It is a popular myth that small children walk unsteadily because they don't have a good sense of balance. The truth is that they're too concerned with the wondrous world around them that they don't pay attention to how their legs are working. She crossed the living room rug to the back of the cottage. Up a flight of steep stairs she climbed, managing to fall only once. Along the way she clutched her ribbiting prize gently, so it wouldn't get hurt.  
The second story of the house was more like an attic than a real story; the bare rafters sloped upward in an inverted V, making for little headroom on each side. A tall man with curly brown hair was trying to fix the window overlooking the backyard of the cottage. He poked his wand at a shutter hinge, which creaked feebly.  
the girl said, lifting her arms to him.  
Liam smiled when he saw her. There's my elfling, he said. He picked her up, tickling her chin, and his daughter giggled.  
Russ is outside. He talking to Mummy. She say me get you.  
Does she? All right, then. He stuck his wand in his trousers pocket and walked downstairs, still holding the little girl. Once on the ground floor, he went into the bedroom and put her in her crib.  
No, Daddy, she protested. Nad-ee doesn't want crib.  
Just for a little while, okay? I'll play with you later, I promise. He kissed her on the forehead, smoothed her blue hair, and left.  
What did you want me for, dear? he asked his wife upon reaching the door.  
Russ says there's trouble in the village. Hekkon and some of his friends are throwing humans out of their houses in the area. We'd best get out before--  
Too late for that, he said quietly. He pointed down the road.   
A band of people was striding up the road from the village. They weren't shouting, they weren't waving torches or spiky farm implements, and there weren't even very many of them. But their fierce, quiet determination and grim faces were every bit as frightening. Each one of them had pointed ears and vividly-colored hair, like Maire and Russ: they were Sidhe.  
Maire, Liam, and Russ watched silently as the small crowd approached. Their self-appointed leader, a heavy-jawed man whose hair was grass green, opened the gate. Soon the dozen or so men and women had filled the garden and stood several icy yards away from the door. A few of them defiantly stepped on the plants.  
Liam stepped forward, held his arms out wide, and spoke. Good morning, everyone. Since we're all neighbors, let's be honest here. What's the matter, and why have you come here?  
The matter is, growled their leader, Hekkon, that you're human, and we want you OUT. Indistinct murmurs at his back showed the crowd's assent.  
Liam repeated, as if it was in a foreign language. Hekkon, surely you don't mean what I think you mean--  
Don't act dumb, human. We want you an' your wife to leave the Reserve. We'll give you three hours to do it, or else we'll come up here with torches. The man's words seemed to hang in the air, solid, immutable.  
Liam frowned. when he spoke again, his voice was soft and measured. I suppose you've threatened all the other humans in the village? Tossed them out of their homes?  
Someone in the crowd jeered. Oh, we're not threatenin' you, human. You gets to decide whether you want to stay and watch your house burn down.  
We have been your neighbors for years. The Ministry--humans, mind you--set up this reserve for all of you, and now you want to repay them by throwing out their employees? Why? What reason could you possibly have for this?  
'Twas you and your round-ear friends, Hekkon said, using a Sidhe epithet for humans, that brought You-Know-Who into the Reserve! You're all his servants! Twas your fault that Gilbert and his wife died! He pointed a long, accusing finger at Liam, who had turned ashen gray.  
At this, Maire exclaimed, How dare you accuse my husband of that! He fought against the Dark Lord for six years, risking his own life and family to bring him down. When he was defeated, Liam rejoiced as much as any of you!  
Worse traitors than him have concealed their loyalties! Hekkon shouted.  
  
Inside, the toddler pulled herself up using the rails of the crib. She wanted attention. She had tried crying, but when no one came to pick her up, she had stopped. Now she heard shouts from outside. Suddenly the frog squeezed out of her hand and plopped to the floor. It croaked, hopping a little. She reached for the animal, but it was too far away. She leaned on the crib railing--and fell.  
The girl bumped her head, but didn't cry about it. She reclaimed her pet and sat on the floor, looking around. After a few moments she walked out of the bedroom and across the front room. Reaching one of the windows that looked into the front garden, the toddler grabbed the sill with one hand. She stood on her tiptoes and peered out the window. A bunch of big people were standing around and yelling at each other, her mother included.  
  
Listen to yourselves! Maire addressed the crowd, which contained too many familiar faces. Liam has lived here for four years. I have lived here my whole life. My daughter plays with your children and knows no other home. Would you take her away from that? How can you be prejudiced against your own neighbors?  
Then a young man stepped out of the crowd. He had the same heavy jaw as Hekkon; Maire recognized him as the man's nephew. He turned to the angry villagers and said, to everyone's surprise, She's right. We shouldn't be persecuting her husband just because he's human. He turned toward Liam. We should be persecuting him...._because he helped kill Lord Voldemort!!_ He raised his wand quickly and shouted a curse. A bolt of green light flashed, struck Liam in the chest, and he fell to the ground. His wife screamed and knelt beside hi, Hekkon's nephew pointed his wand at her, but before he could curse her, Russ Calder had whipped out his own wand.  
Russ shouted. Red light leapt from his wand to the killer, rendering him unconscious. The crowd watched, aghast.  
  
From the window, she saw the green bolt hit her father. She saw him fall and heard her mother scream, but she wasn't sure what had happened.  
Her small, round face knit in a frown as she pressed one hand against the glass. she said.   
  


* * *  



	2. 12 Years Later...The Letter

TITLE: Blue Hair, Pointed Ears, and a Wand  
SUMMARY: An Elf goes to Hogwarts....  
RATING: PG  
DISCLAIMERS: I don't own the Harry Potter books, worship J.K. Rowling for that. I won't use this story for profit...blah,blah, woof, woof.  
A/N: Just read, it, will you? Pretty please?  


  
* * *  


  
Chapter 2: The Letter  
  
Thirteen year-old Nadea Ruibhen was an Elf. Capital e, that is, or as most Elves prefer to be called, Sidhe. Yes, she had pointed ears, and could do magic, but she was _not_ three feet tall and she did _not_ have wings. (Not anymore, at least; the Sidhe lost their wings several thousand years ago.) In fact, she looked very little like the sort of elf in a Muggle children's book. She had short neon-blue hair and cat-like, slitted pupils, and she was actually taller than most human girls her age. She wore a blue cotton robe with tan trimming, which her mother had sewn but which also fit her well. And at the moment, she was arguing with the most obstinate shopkeeper in all of County Connaught.  
What do you mean, you're out of Self-Threading Needles (TM)?!' she said incredulously.  
They're not exactly the most popular item in this store. I mean, your ma's the only one who ever buys them. I can't keep track of when they run out.' The man's pointy ears (he was also a Sidhe) turned red from indignation. His voice had a heavy brogue.  
Nadea sighed. When's your next shipment, Finnegan?' she asked with a resigned sigh.  
Supplies come in Saturday from Sligo.'  
All right. It'll just be the groceries, then,' she said.   
D'you want a copy of the _Daily Prophet_ today? There's a big article again on Sirius Black,' remarked the shopkeeper.  
No, thank you.' She paid for the food and placed it in a cloth bag with battered handles. See you Saturday.'  
Good-bye, Miss Ruibhen.'  
Outside the store, she grabbed her ash-handled broom where it had leaned against the wall. Balancing the bag in front of her, she mounted and rose into the warm summer air.  
  
For Nadea, home was a two-story cottage on Oghin Rhûs, a winding road overlooking the Northern Sea. The whitewashed cottage was very small--only 7 rooms in all--but cozy. She and her mother were the only people there; she had no siblings, and her father had died when she was a baby. Surrounding the cottage was a vegetable garden and a peeling, green fence. Nadea flew over the chimney and thatching, steeply sloping roof and dove down, stopping just before the front door. She was a good flier, having been on her school's Quidditch team for two years. As she landed, she waved at neighbor Russ Calder, who was walking down the road to the village. Nadea slid off the broom and placed it on a bench beside the door.  
As she walked inside, into the living room, she called out to her mother. Mum, I'm home!' She put the sack of groceries on the table in the kitchen. Her mother hadn't replied, but Nadea knew where to find her: in the workshop at the back of the cottage.  
The workshop had once been a large storeroom; there were still tall shelved on two sides of the room, but they now held rolls of cloth and ribbon. The stone-flagged floor was littered with scraps of colorful fabric of all textures and patterns. Nadea's mother sat at a desk hidden in the far corner. A bolt of ink-black cloth was spread on the desktop, and she waved her wand over it casually, using a Hemming Spell to finish the edges. She looked up through her tiny sewing spectacles when Nadea came in. Maire Ruibhen had the same striking aqua hair as her daughter, but her eyes were hazel and her face made a rounder shape.  
Nadea removed the tabby cat, one of her many pets, from the cushioned chair beside the door and sat in it. Undaunted, the cat leapt back into her lap and sprawled there, purring contentedly. She stroked its fur as she spoke to her mother.  
Finnegan said he's run out of Self-Threading Needles (TM) and the next shipment comes in Thursday. I got the groceries, though, and the soap we needed.  
Thank you, Nadea.'  
Are you working on the robe for Mr. Clannert?' the girl asked. Her mother nodded in reply, her mouth full of pins. The Ruibhens lived in a very small village, with around 70 residents, give or take a few. Maire, Nadea's mother, was the only seamstress in the village, so she know everyone well and got a decent amount of respect. There were, however, a few rumors among some of the gossipy village biddies, whispers about her dead husband. Nadea tried to ignore every hint of those rumors.  
Was there any post today, Mum?'  
Maire took the pins from her mouth. I think so. Look in the living room.'  
Nadea went out into the living room, which was the largest in the small cottage. Kneeling on the colorful hearth rug, she looked on the stone in front of the chimney, where the mail usually was. Being owl post, it dropped down through the chimney instead of into a box or door slot. There were no letters there.  
Suddenly she heard a faint coughing noise behind her. It was the sort of noise that makes one's skin prickle with dread, the sort of noise that a legendary hero would hear just after he thinks he's chopped off all the tentacles. The sort of noise that a smug, talking bird makes.  
The girl spun around to face her pet and adversary. Croikey, give me that letter!' she demanded.  
Croikey's full name was , which was given to him by the considerably irate owner of the pet store where Nadea had bought him. Croikey was a raven, and he was very sensitive about that. He insisted that he was _very_ different from a crow, and would vehemently argue the point with anyone who wanted to. Owing to a magical accident that had happened before he came to the Ruibhen household, the raven could speak and understand human speech. He also had a longer life span and a few extremely un-birdlike traits.  
Giff me one guff reaffon,' he said, lisping around the large envelope that he held in his beak.  
How about: it's not yours and I'd like to have it?' She tried to grab the letter, but he dodged away.  
Not unleff you giff me fomeffing in return.'  
Like what?' she asked, in a too-sweet voice.  
He thought about this for a moment. A biscuit.'   
*Ahem: this is a British biscuit, not an American one. So it's a cookie.*  
Sighing, Nadea got up and walked into the kitchen. She opened a biscuit tin and held out a piece of shortbread to the raven. This presented him with a dilemma: how could he snatch the biscuit while keeping the letter in his beak? At last his belly won, but as soon as he dropped the letter, Nadea grabbed it and pulled the treat out of his reach. Triumphant, she returned to the sewing room with envelope in hand.  
Blackmailer,' she called over her shoulder to Croikey.  
Thief,' he cawed back.  
  
As Nadea walked to the back of the house, she glanced down at the address on the envelope, written in bright green ink.  
  
Miss N. Ruibhen  
The Cottage  
26 Oghin Rhûs  
Sidhe Autonomous Reserve, NE  
County Connaught, Ireland  
  
Curious, she brushed a wisp of blue hair out of her face and turned the envelope over. There was a red wax seal, stamped with the Hogwarts coat of arms.  
Mum!' she shrieked, dashing into the sewing room. Mum, the letter's here!'  
Maire smiled at her daughter's excitement. Read it, then.'  
The girl ripped open the envelope and began reading the letter in her soft, lilting brogue:  
  


**Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry**  
Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore  
(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chief Warlock,  
Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)  


  
Dear Miss Ruibhen,  
We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Your previous school records will transfer directly to your third year placement. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment. Students are allowed one pet, such as a cat or an owl, and may bring a broomstick.  
The new school year will begin on September the first. We await your owl by no later than July 31. The Hogwarts Express will leave from King's Cross Station in London, Platform Nine-and-three-quarters, at eleven o'clock on Sept.1.  
It is duly noted that as a Sidhe, with an M.O.M classification of four, you are required to use caution while travelling in Muggle areas. If proper security precautions are not taken, the Departments of Magical Law Enforcement and for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, as well as the Sidhe High Council, will be notified.  
Third years at Hogwarts are permitted to visit the village of Hogsmeade on certain weekends. Please give the enclosed permission form to your parent or guardian to sign.  
Yours sincerely,  
**Professor M. McGonagall**  
Deputy Headmistress  
  
Nadea tore her eyes from the letter, grinning from ear to ear. I'm going to Hogwarts, Mum!'  
Her mother stood up and put an arm around her shoulders. Nadea was as tall as her mother now, though she was only thirteen. Hogwarts is very far away, Nadea,' she reminded her. It will be a long journey since you can't Apparate.'  
Oh, I don't care, it'll be worth the journey! But what do they mean by proper security measures'?'  
That means you'll have to cover your hair and ears and wear sunglasses when you're near Muggles.' The appearance of Sidhe, though they weren't very different from humans, usually frightened Muggles (non-magic people). That was why most Sidhe in Ireland and Britain, the Ruibhens included, lived on a spacious Autonomous Reserve in the northwest part of the country, which was governed by the High Council and guarded from Muggles.  
Nadea reread the letter, scarcely believing her eyes. She spoke to Croikey, who had sidled into the sewing room, munching a biscuit. I got into Hogwarts!'  
The raven sniffed and looked at her mournfully. So you're going to leave me, eh? You're going to leave poor old Croikey all alone at home while you go off to school? Oh, I knew this rueful day would come!' he wailed, closing his eyes.  
I won't leave you behind, Croikey. I'm allowed to have a pet.'  
The bird opened one eye hopefully. You'll--you'll take me?'  
Of course.'  
Then...let's goooooo!!!' He jumped into the air and flapped around the room in circles.  
Not so fast,' Maire cautioned. The Council still has to approve your leaving the Reserve.'  
Nadea's heart fell like a stone. The Council?' she repeated, eyes wide.  
Yes. The next meeting's on Friday.'  


* * *  


  
A/N: Some pronunciations: Sidhe' is SHEE. (They're in some Celtic myths.) Ruibhen' is ROO-VEHN. Nadea' is NAH-DEE-AH.  
Please review!  
  



	3. The Council

A/N: For disclaimers and all that, see the previous chapter. I'm lazy, okay?  
Please review!!!  


  
* * *  


Chapter 3: The Low Council  
The Sidhe Autonomous Reserve in Ireland was divided into four geographical quarters, all ruled by the High Council. Each quarter had its own governing body, or Low Council, that met once a month and discussed local matters. The Council was fairly democratic. Every adult in the quarter was invited to the meetings, and anyone could speak once he or she was acknowledged. There were eleven Councillors elected every three years who guided the discussions and made final decisions.  
Since so many people came to the monthly meetings, the meeting hall had to be large. Nadea suspected that it was magicked, because from the inside it held many more seats than seemed possible from the outside. She and her mother found two seats several rows back from the main floor, and they watched as Sidhe young and old, from their own village and elsewhere, filled the hall. Heads with pointed ears and bright green, purple, or blue hair bobbed in the crowd. Nadea looked at the dais on the floor, where the Councillors sat in eleven black chairs. Iain Darrick, a scowling, middle-aged man wearing striped green robes, sat in the middle chair reserved for the Presiding Councillor. At precisely eight o'clock, he tapped his wand against the chair. The sound of a gong rang across the hall and silenced the crowd. Darrick stood, gave the traditional address in the old Sidhe tongue, and started the meeting.  
This was the first time Nadea had attended a Council meeting, since children weren't normally allowed, but she found it hard to pay attention. The issues addressed by the Council were boring and unimportant: the dispute of two fishermen, for example, who were arguing over net boundaries. One of the five female Councillors proposed a wordy resolution on Muggle tourists, and then Nadea heard her name called.  
...Miss Nadea Ruibhen, daughter of Maire Ruibhen, who is asking to transfer to a school outside of the Reserve,' Darrick said in a magically amplified voice. Miss Ruibhen, will you please stand?'  
She obeyed, her mother squeezing her hand quickly.  
Is it true that you wish to attend Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry in northern Britain?' Darrick asked.  
Yes, sir. I received an owl from them on Wednesday.'  
And you are currently entering your third year at Oghinaas Secondary School?'  
Yes, sir.'  
An elderly lady stood up on the right side of the hall. She looked frail and carried a knobbly wooden cane, but she used the cane more frequently to menace children and dogs than to help her walk. The Council recognises Mrs. Urica Skithers.'  
I want to know why Miss Ruibhen wishes to attend that British school. Oghinaas is a perfectly good school, and I don't know why she'd want to go so far away from the Reserve.' Murmurs in the audience, and heads nodding, showed that others agreed with her. As soon as she had resumed her seat, another person got up. It was a young woman with curly lavender hair, who was Nadea's Charms teacher at school.  
The Council recognises Miss Renée O'Dwyer.'  
I have taught Nadea for two years in charms and basic spells. She is an exceptional student, with some of the highest marks in the school.' Nadea blushed at this praise; she knew Miss O'Dwyer didn't give compliments freely. I have also tutored her in more advanced spells, giving her textbooks for fourth-year and fifth-year subjects. Oghinaas simply doesn't have enough to offer her. Hogwarts is an honorable school for the best students in England and Ireland. I think Nadea would do well there.'  
Immediately a portly, red-faced man stood; Nadea saw that it was the headmaster of Oghinaas. She disliked him for his oversized ego and arrogance.  
The Council recognises Gregory Wheeler.'  
I sincerely hope that Miss O'Dwyer is not maligning the name of our school. We strive to educate every child equally well. Perhaps Miss Ruibhen thinks herself above the rest of us here, and that the people of this Reserve are too ignorant for her.' He looked in her direction, and Nadea saw the same lethal expression that he'd worn the day she had let a Niffler loose in his office. Accidentally, of course.  
That's not true!' Nadea exclaimed, but her voice was drowned out by the ensuing hubbub. Councillor Darrick tapped his wand again, and the hall fell quiet. In the very back of the audience, an ancient, bent woman got to her feet. She had dark blue hair streaked with white.  
The Council recognises Ms. Siobhan Clannert.'  
In a thin, quavering voice, the woman spoke. I think we should let this child go to the humans' school. Not because of her school marks or how smart she is. But because she's one of them.' Nadea realized how silent and still the hall had suddenly become. No one even coughed. Her father was a human, not an Elf. She's just like him. She doesn't belong here!' As the woman pointed a gnarled finger at Nadea, talking broke out again in the audience.  
Nadea felt her mother tremble beside her. She sprang up and shouted, My father was not a human!'   
Her mother touched her arm gently, pushed her down into her seat.  
The Council recognises Ms. Maire Ruibhen.'  
Maire spoke softly, but everyone heard her. Nadea stared, bewildered, at her mother. Ms. Clannert is right. My husband Liam was not Sidhe. He worked for the Ministry of Magic, fighting here in the Reserve against supporters of You-Know-Who.'  
Nadea shook her head. She had never heard this! Maire had never said her father was a human, or that he worked for the Ministry. Twelve years of stories were suddenly blown away.  
After You-Know-Who fell, many Sidhe were prejudiced against humans, blaming them for the things the Dark Lord did. Liam was killed.' Her words rang in the silent hall. I never told Nadea the truth, because I didn't want her to think she was any different from a Sidhe child.'  
Maire glanced at Nadea, giving her a small smile, and continued. But that has nothing to do with the matter at hand. I don't want Nadea to go to Hogwarts because I think she doesn't belong here. On the contrary, I will miss her when she's away. I simply want my daughter to learn as much as she can, and to be happy.'  
She sat down in her chair next to her daughter. There was a pause, and then someone started to clap. A few uncertain claps joined it until a wave of applause, neither very loud nor long, rippled across the audience. Nadea felt proud of her mother.  
At last Councillor Darrick stood. The Council will now discuss the issue and vote on it.'  
As he sat, a magic shield sprang up around the councillors' dais, so that the crowd couldn't overhear them. To Nadea it seemed an interminable wait as she watched the men and women behind the shield. A hundred thoughts buzzed in her mind: What will they say? How did Father really die? What if I can't go to Hogwarts?  
Finally the shield disappeared and Darrick spoke again. The Council has reached a decision. The vote was eight to three.' Nadea held her breath. Miss Ruibhen will be allowed to attend Hogwarts School.'  
She let her breath out slowly. It was over. She was really going to Hogwarts.  


* * *  


They didn't return to the cottage until almost midnight. Yawning, Nadea sprawled on the battered but comfortable couch. She was tired, but there were so many questions that she wanted answers to.  
Mum, why didn't you tell me that Father was human?'  
Maire sighed. She sat down at the end of the couch. I didn't want you to think you were different from everyone. There's so much prejudice among Sidhe and humans alike. I wanted to spare you that.' She ruffled Nadea's chin-length hair. All right, elfling?'   
Nadea smiled at hearing her childhood nickname, but she was still curious. How did you meet him?'  
Her mother smiled. Your father Liam worked for the Ministry of Magic, trying to bring down You-Know-Who. He came to the Reserve to investigate several murders of Sidhe who were known enemies of the Dark Lord, killed by Death Eaters who were Sidhe themselves. I met your father one stormy night when he got lost trying to find the house of a suspect.' Maire's eyes had a faraway look as she remembered. I gave him directions and some tea. Later we met again, at a Council meeting where he was speaking to the Presiding Councillor. Afterwards, he asked me to have dinner with him, and he told me what his job was. A year later, we were married.'  
You never said he worked for the Ministry,' Nadea murmured. You said he was a fisherman.'  
I know. I should have told you the truth. But you must understand, it was dangerous back then. Liam was risking his life every minute just doing his job and fighting the Dark Lord. He warned me many times that I was risking my life too, but I didn't care.'  
Nadea had one more question to ask. How did Father die?'  
Maire looked down at the ring she still wore, even after nearly twelve years of being a widow. Then she began the story that she'd never told to her daughter.  
After You-Know-Who was defeated, there was a wave of prejudice against humans in the Reserve. Many Sidhe blamed humans like Liam for the things that the Dark Lord's supporters had done. One morning a mob came up here to the cottage. They were ordinary villagers, neighbors who knew Liam, but they were accusing him of murder. A man named Caleb Alderith was with them.'  
Caleb Alderith?' Nadea said, recognizing the surname. Is he related to Hekkon?'  
Yes. He was Hekkon's nephew,' answered Maire. He was also a Death Eater. While your father was talking, Caleb cursed him.' She swallowed. He killed Liam.'  
Nadea was stunned. Her father had been murdered by a supporter of the Dark Lord... unbelievable. And yet, somehow it made sense. She frowned.  
You were only a toddler, fourteen months old,' her mother said. There were tears in her eyes, which she wiped away quickly. You probably don't even remember Liam.'  
When she was very little, Nadea had remembered some strange things which she had long considered dreams. An angry mob of adults...a yelling man with a wand...green light...red light....her mother crying....and, strangest of all, a frog. Maybe those disjointed images were real memories. But that was silly, no one remembered things that happened when they were that young.  
She rubbed her eyes. Maire saw her bewilderment and touched her shoulder gently.  
I know this is upsetting, Nadea. Perhaps I should have told you sooner. But I know that if Liam were here today, he'd be proud of you.'  
  


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A/N: Reviews, please?


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